


What Emma Wants

by MommyMaleficent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anti-Hook, Emma/Lily/Neal was a thing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Infantilism, Love, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pacifiers, Past Relationship(s), Protectiveness, Sweet, he's only briefly mentioned and not even by name, little Emma, mommy Ingrid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-15 20:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13039140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MommyMaleficent/pseuds/MommyMaleficent
Summary: Ingrid is pleasantly surprised. Elsa is thoroughly disturbed.





	1. Elsa

Elsa was speechless. Complete and utterly speechless.

That Saturday was the first time in recent memory Emma was awake before ten. Before seven, even. It was the first time Elsa didn’t have to (jokingly) threaten to stuff snow down Emma’s pajama bottoms or freeze her toes over the blanket to get her out of bed.

Emma made it known she had something important she wanted to say. Since she was already up of her own free will, how could they refuse?

As for _what_ she had to say—or, ask, rather... Well, it was strange, to put it mildly.

“I just...” Emma shrugged from beside her, “I dunno... I want to try it out.” She caught Elsa’s eye and shrunk into herself a little, offering a sheepish grin. “I know it might sound crazy—”

“It doesn’t.”

They turned to Ingrid, the third of their little party, who sat at Emma’s other side on the living room couch. She was still in her pajamas with a small blanket covering her legs as opposed to Emma’s white turtleneck and sweats and Elsa’s bathrobe. Though her voice was usually gentle, she spoke with adamant firmness just then, and when she saw she had their attention, Ingrid softened and smiled.

“And don’t you ever think it is,” she continued, tucking some of Emma’s hair behind her ear, “I think it’s a very sweet idea, Emma.” She caught Elsa’s eye next. “Don’t you agree, Elsa?”

Elsa’s lips formed a thin, disapproving line, but lessened when Emma whipped her head around to face her. She was chewing on her lip. Her green eyes seemed bigger somehow, but she didn’t go so far as to bat her lashes.

Swallowing, Elsa then sighed. “You really want this, Emma?”

Emma nodded. “I want to try. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. Don’t think I don’t know that face. I know you think it’s a bit weird, Els...”

She tilted her head as she slowed into a pause. Deliberately. Waiting for her to voice her agreement because _yes,_ it _was_ weird. Extremely.

“But I want to try. Like, a trial-type thing. If you’re still uncomfortable by the end, then... we’ll stop.” She placed her hand over Elsa’s knee. “Okay?”

Elsa could feel Ingrid’s eyes begging her to concede. It was actually very easy to give Emma what she wanted because what she wanted they already had in abundance—

Love.

Safety.

Food.

Warmth. Well, most of the time.

But this... Elsa wasn’t so sure she could give Emma this.

“You want me...” It was her turn to pause, the words caught in her throat. They hurt. She placed her hand over Emma’s. “You want me to... play... your big sister?”

“Oh, dear Elsa,” Ingrid chimed in, placing a hand on Emma’s back. “Sweet girl, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But if it makes things a bit easier for you to adjust, or if it sounds more appealing to you, you’re more than welcome to adopt the role. Isn’t that right, Emma?”

Emma nodded. “Yeah. It’s just a thought.”

She would have to think about it. Very carefully, and very much, even though deep down she knew it was not something she would ever consider agreeing to. Emma’s happiness mattered, but so did her own. Elsa excused herself to go make coffee, and left before either Ingrid or Emma could get in another word.

* * *

When she came back from changing her clothes and was in the midst of fixing her hair in its usual French braid, the pair of them were still on the couch, only this time with Ingrid’s laptop computer. Emma was leaning against Ingrid’s shoulder, the small blanket now over her lap. They smiled and giggled and whispered to themselves, each pointing at the screen every now and again and conferring with the other on what they were looking at. Ingrid kissed the crown of Emma’s head like she was a child, and Emma smiled up at her adoringly. Elsa had to admit it was a little sweet to see them so happy.

“What are you doing?” she asked, edging herself closer as she tied the yellow ribbon onto the tail of her braid.

They stopped their giggles and greeted her with warm and loving smiles. Ingrid shifted in her seat to show Elsa the screen, and Elsa bent over to get a better look.

“Shopping for our baby girl’s nursery, of course,” she answered, beaming, “Just look at all these lovely items.”

She did. And the unsettled feeling of uncomfortableness crawled back into her stomach the more she scrolled down. So many onesies. Some adult pacifiers. Sippy cups. Bibs. A small playpen and a few baby toys fit for an older crowd. Even a crib a twentyeight-year-old woman could comfortably sleep in.

“Wow. That’s... a lot.”

Emma chewed on her lip some more. “We were thinking of painting my bedroom a pastel yellow sometime soon. You wanna help?”

Painting a room was innocuous enough. It didn’t completely erase her unease with the whole ordeal, but chipping in this way would lessen her guilt about finding it so odd.

“Sure,” Elsa smiled. “I’ll help. I’m gonna go for my morning walk now, okay?”

Both Emma and Ingrid smiled back at her, and Ingrid kissed her cheek before she sent for Emma’s baby items. Elsa patted Emma’s knee and headed for the door. As she was tying her shoes, before she could put on her headphones, she heard Ingrid speak up from the living room.

“Let’s get our baby girl some breakfast, okay? Does my sweet Emma want her Mommy to make her pancakes?”

Elsa froze. She could feel her ears perk up like an animal, and clenched her teeth as she waited for Emma’s response. They really couldn’t wait to try things out, could they?

“But wha’ ‘bou’ Elsa?” Emma asked, her voice slightly higher in tone and pitch. “She gets pancakies too, Mommy?”

“Of course, dear. But she’ll have hers when she’s home from her walk, so it’s just you and me for now. What kind would you like to eat today?”

“Chocolate! No, blueberry! Strawberry? And banananananana and peach and kiwi and avocado—”

“Okay, now you’re just naming fruits!” Ingrid said over a laugh, and Emma answered in kind, laughing as well. “My, what a silly little girl you are, Emma!”

“You’re silly toooo!”

Dear God. Elsa put on her headphones and shut the door. They couldn’t even wait until she was out of the house. The cold November morning welcomed her with an embrace by the biting wind. Sighing, she selected her music and went on her way. At least for now she could pretend it was all a weird dream.

* * *

Elsa dreaded returning at eight just an hour later. Who knew what she was going to find, or hear?

But when she did, she found blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes still warm and waiting for her at the table, and Ingrid nursing a cup of coffee by herself. She eased, removing her headphones from her ears.

“Hey,” she said softly, smiling nervously when Ingrid looked up. “Where’s Emma?”

Ingrid chuckled. “Napping. Getting up before ten just _exhausted_ her.”

“I bet it did.” Elsa nodded, hiding her own amused chuckle. Oh, Emma. Napping after she just woke up sounded just like her. “Her usual ten o’clock, then?”

“Mmhm.”

They sat in silence as Elsa helped herself to her pancakes and Ingrid sipped her warm beverage. Mornings were always their time together and it was nice. This one, however, was off. Elsa found it hard to look at her aunt beyond her hands.

Ingrid didn’t even think about it. She just slipped into the role of Emma’s mother so easily, and naturally, and... willingly. Almost like she was waiting for the opportunity to do so.

“Elsa?”

Elsa’s head shot up. “Yes?”

Ingrid was finished with her coffee, and now she was just sitting there, elbows propped on the table, chin resting on the back of laced fingers, watching her eat. Or not eat. “Elsa, talk to me, dear. You seem bothered by what Emma asked of us this morning. Will you tell me why?”

Damn. So quick.

Elsa put down her fork. “You know why.”

“Please don’t mumble, Elsa. I can’t under—”

“I said, you _know_ why.” Ingrid showed little surprise under her icy glare, and gestured for her to continue. Elsa obliged. “I love Emma, you know I do, but not only is she older than me, I already have a little sister. This upsets the balance. _My_ balance. I can’t play her big sister when I am already the real thing for someone else. When I’m...”

She swallowed nothing and averted her gaze to the floor. She couldn’t even say it now.

“You’re already used to Emma filling that role for you.”

Sighing, Elsa pushed her half-eaten plate of mixed pancakes away. Her appetite was gone, taken away by the truth. From across the table Ingrid rose and made her way over, stroking Elsa’s hair with a cool hand.

“Don’t be like this, love,” she said, “You’re not replacing Anna by being a big sister to Emma. Anna has absolutely nothing to do with this. Emma is still the same as she was, but showing your love for her will be a little different is all.”

She clasped both of Elsa’s hands as she knelt down before her, blue eyes staring into blue.

“This will take time for you. I know this, and Emma does too. We had a chance to discuss it while you were out, before she went to nap, and we decided to keep most of it in her bedroom until you’re comfortable with the idea. With the door closed. I give you my apologies now for springing this on you without warning, and when she wakes up, or when she feels like her older, adult self again, Emma is going to apologize as well. Will that help?”

All Elsa could do was nod. Ingrid cupped her cheek and placed a kiss on her brow as she rose.

“Finish your pancakes, dear, and leave your plate in the sink. I’ll do it after I’ve taken my shower.” Elsa watched her walk away.

“Did you already know?” she asked, her eyes fixed on her aunt’s back, “You took to your role rather quick.”

But Ingrid only half-turned and offered a placid smile before continuing up the stairs.

Elsa scowled. She definitely knew long before today.

* * *

She hovered by the door when Ingrid went to wake Emma at ten, placing her ear against the wood and closing her eyes.

“Good morning, little one,” Ingrid cooed, “Did we have a good nap?”

Memories of Mother saying the same to a toddler Anna flashed into Elsa’s mind. When she herself only reached the door handle in height. Anna would greet their mother with a cry of her name before asking for her sister, and they would hug and invite Elsa in so she could share in a hug as well.

“Mmmm... Morning, Mommy. Cuddle time?”

Of course, Emma wasn’t Anna. She wouldn’t ever be Anna.

“Hmm... I think we have time for a quick cuddle. Do you need to use the potty?” A small pause. “Are you sure?” Another pause. “All right then. Scooch your toosh...”

The sheets rustled as they shifted and settled. When they were comfortable, Ingrid began to tell Emma a story, one about three sisters who loved each other very much. One of those sisters had a remarkable gift: she always remained true to herself. Even when people said things that upset her, she forgave them because she knew they only said those things because they didn’t understand and were afraid to. Especially when one of those people could be one of her sisters.

“So what’d the girl do, Mommy?” asked Emma. Elsa bit her lip.

“Well,” said Ingrid, “Even though it was hard, the girl was very patient, and did not cry when her sister said something she didn’t want to hear. She said she was sorry her sister felt so, and promised her they were still best friends even though they disagreed, and they were.”

“Why she ‘pologize?”

Ingrid chuckled. “Because she was a polite little swan, just like you. Boop!”

Emma giggled. “Yay!”

Elsa moved away from the door and tiptoed to her room just a little ways down the hall. It was still _so_ strange to hear.

So much of this was premeditated. How quick Ingrid took to her role, not to mention how easily they found all those... adult baby things. It was a juxtaposition, adult baby. And she still didn’t understand why. Not that she ever bothered to ask. Or maybe she left before they were going to explain it.

She closed her door silently and flopped on her own bed with a sigh. Maybe she should ask. Why. When Emma was feeling more like herself. Her older, adult self.

For now... Elsa grabbed her laptop and got comfortable in bed.

* * *

That night brought a terrible thunderstorm, one in which Elsa had to roll her eyes at despite somewhat expecting it. Something in her knew this was deliberate. Partially because things weren’t going so well at home, and partially because at some point in their lives, all kids held the belief they themselves controlled the weather. What she didn’t expect was for someone to throw open her door and jump into her bed.

No one in this house was afraid of thunder.

And yet, the shaking form of a cold and clearly frightened Emma clung to her, her baby blanket pressed firmly against her chest.

“E-Emma?” Elsa asked, gingerly patting her shoulders. “What are you doing?”

“‘M scared of the thunder...” Emma whimpered, burying her face in Elsa’s chest. Her voice was still in that slightly higher pitch she donned when in her ‘littlespace’ as Elsa found out it was called. “Mommy’s too far ‘way...”

Anna stopped being afraid of thunder for the most part once she discovered lightning. But Emma was not Anna.

“Do you... want me to take you to her?”

“Wan’ stay wit’ Sissy,” Emma sniffled, and squeaked as the thunder rumbled above their heads. “Pwease?”

Elsa tensed. She wanted to be affectionate, to reassure Emma nothing was wrong, but something was. Abhorrence bubbled and settled within the pit of her stomach. She hated this. God, how she wished it were a figment of her imagination, some twisted dream her mind conjured to taunt her. It was that word. Not even the babytalk. It was that one _word._

“My _name_ is Elsa.”

Not even Anna used to call her that word, and hearing from Emma was... wrong. She’d never in a million years say it, and the same went the other way under normal circumstances. How long could this go on?

More thunder came and went, and a soft-spoken “Girls?” came from the open door.

Emma turned. “Mommy?”

Ingrid stood in the doorway to Elsa’s room, bathrobe draped over her shoulders, a graceful hand raised to cover a yawn. “Emma, why don’t you come to bed with me tonight? Let’s let Elsa get some rest, all right, my love?”

Emma went willingly. As she hopped off the bed with her blanket in her arms, she turned and added, “Night-night, Elsa. Wuv you.” Before Elsa could even bid her goodnight, Emma darted to Ingrid. They shared a quick hug and kiss before she turned and ran to Ingrid’s bedroom down the hall. Elsa heaved a sigh of relief.

Ingrid sighed as well, but not of relief. “I’m sorry, my sweet Elsa. It won’t happen again.”

Elsa rolled over.

“Her love for you hasn’t changed one bit. The way she expresses herself has, but she’ll be big again soon, once both storms have passed,” Ingrid continued, “Have patience.”

“I _am_ being patient...” Elsa mumbled. Her voice was lost under the cover of a particularly loud burst of thunder.

“Mommy!!” wailed Emma from down the hall. “MOMMY! IT’S SCARY!”

Elsa covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t even look up when Ingrid closed her door. This whole experiment couldn’t be over fast enough.

She _was_ trying, but truly, she missed Anna now more than ever.


	2. Emma

Ingrid was Emma’s first and only Mommy, and Emma loved her to the moon and back.

She could still remember when they first met about twelve years ago, when Ingrid went by another name and fostered lots of other kids. Right away, each and every one of them could tell Emma was the de facto favorite child—even Emma, though she wouldn’t let herself believe it at the time. Kevin, to retaliate for the spiders, stole her baby blanket from her room, and hid it so well she couldn’t stop sobbing under the sheets that night.

Then, Ingrid came in and sat beside her.

Emma did her best to be quiet. Cry quietly so no one could hear her, so Kevin couldn’t laugh at her, so the other kids wouldn’t gang up on her as they often did. She kept her eyes closed, face pressed against the pillow, and made sure not to sniffle too frequently in case someone happened to pass by and overhear.

But Ingrid wasn’t fooled. She pulled back the covers just a bit, and gently placed Emma’s baby blanket, recently washed, by her face.

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” she whispered, rubbing her hair, “My sweet darling, I am so sorry.”

Emma sniffled and tearfully pulled her blanket beneath the covers, slipping even further underneath them herself so her foster mother couldn’t see she was still crying. She didn’t know why Ingrid was apologizing since it was Kevin who decided to retaliate, and no one knew what he was going to do. Though... it didn’t seem like she was apologizing on his behalf.

“Th-thank you...” Emma choked out before swallowing, “F-f-for my bl-bl...”

“Of course, sweetheart, of course...” More stroking.

She expected Ingrid to stop stroking her hair even though she loved it, for Ingrid to accept her gratitude, say a curt goodnight now that the issue was resolved, close the door and leave. Or for her to say something about Kevin apologizing, or that she’ll have a stern talk with him about his behavior.

But none of those things happened.

Instead, Ingrid asked her to scoot over so she could lie with her; she even flipped her pillow over so they could have a fresh start. No more tears.

Because she kept to one cheek, only one nostril was stuffy, so Emma had to lie on her other side, which put her face-to-face with Ingrid, then known to her as Sarah Fisher. Seeing her soft, gentle and relaxed face calmed Emma a great deal, and that was amplified when Ingrid planted a cool, but not unwelcome kiss on her brow.

She cupped Emma’s sticky red-hot cheek in her hand and tsked. “My poor girl. He really hurt you, didn’t he?” Emma only sniffled in reply. “Dear Emma...”

Then, without warning, Ingrid drew her close and hugged her tight. She rubbed her back and promised to stay with her all throughout the night.

And the strangest thing was, Emma let her. Ingrid was comfortingly cold despite the warmth and heat Emma built up hiding under her blanket. It was kind of nice, and she moved toward her embrace eagerly. It was the first time in a long time she remembered feeling the closeness of someone’s arms around her as she slept, or tried to sleep. It was vague, but the slightest hint of deja vu _was_ there. The comfort, the security, the care she felt in Ingrid’s arms that night overwhelmed her so much she almost began to cry again, this time out of happiness, of appreciation. Maybe even love.

Twelve years is a long time, and now she was used to it. Now, Ingrid was her Mommy, and Emma was more than happy to be her little baby. To be wrapped in Mommy’s arms and kissed by cool, soft lips on every place a little girl could name, and know her affections were always going to be returned in earnest... that was bliss.

Emma jumped and buried her face into Mommy’s shoulder at the boom of another thunderclap, a small whine at her lips. “Mommy... it’s scawy...”

Mommy always pulled the covers a little higher and Emma a little closer. “Would it help if I sang your lullaby, baby?”

“P’ease?”

And always Mommy would smile—even in the dark Emma knew Mommy smiled—and sing her lullaby, a little song made up just for her:

 

“ _Hush, my dear_  
_You’ve nothing to fear_  
_Long as I’m here_  
_To hold you_  
_Nothing will hurt you,_  
_Nothing would dare,_  
_I’m here_  
_Mommy’s here_  
_I’m here_...”

 

Emma closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Tried to dream. She wanted to see cotton candy clouds and ice cream cars and chocolate rain where there was no scary thunder booms. She wanted Mommy telling her she loved her even in dreams. She wanted Elsa saying that too.

But Elsa hadn’t said anything.

“Mommy?”

“Hm?” Emma opened her eyes.

“Is Elsa mad at me?”

For a second, Mommy held her tighter.

“No, sweet child. Elsa isn’t mad at you. She just needs time to adjust is all. Little Emma is a surprise to her.”

But not a good surprise. She didn’t want to say it out loud because she didn’t want to upset Mommy, but it was clear to little Emma that Elsa didn’t want her. And that hurt lots. Like when she falls down and scrapes her knee so hard there’s rocks and red blood and all the Disney princess bandaids don’t help as much as they should. It still hurt when you touched it even over the bandaid.

Emma met Mommy when she was sixteen. She’d been little for almost eight years now, since she was about twenty. Elsa came only a few years ago, and even though Emma was thrilled to have her around, that also meant she couldn’t be little as often around the house anymore. It became her secret again, just like it was before Mommy became Mommy, but this time it was harder because she was already too used to it not being one.

Elsa had a secret too, which was the same as Mommy’s, so Emma had no problem accepting it. It wasn’t fair Elsa couldn’t do the same for hers.

Mommy sighed as Emma curled into a ball next to her, digging her knees slightly into her chest as she pulled them up. Mommy let her hand slip down Emma’s back to her bum and began to pat-pat-pat it gently to the rhythm of the rain. “What’s my little one thinking? Good thoughts, I hope?”

Emma swallowed. “Elsa doesn’t love me no more...” She could feel the tears welling in her eyes and spilling over as she said it. Her voice broke like her heart was probably doing right now, if it didn’t already. “And... and that makes me very...” she tried swallowing again even though the lump made it hurt, “very sad...”

Mommy kissed her, and lifted Emma’s head so her hair was out of the way and her cheek could rest on Mommy’s shoulder and make it hot and wet with her dumb stupid tears.

“I know it’s difficult, sweetheart, but Elsa does love you. She’s just having a hard time showing it, that’s all. We have to be patient, Emma. Do you think you can do that? For Mommy?”

Emma sobbed as she reluctantly nodded. “What if Elsa never shows me ever again?”

Mommy cupped her cool hand on Emma’s damp cheek, and Emma leaned into the touch willingly. Desperately. She clung to Mommy’s arm and let the tears fall and disappear into Mommy’s palm.

“Mommy will make it better, my love. Don’t worry. No little girl of mine will go unloved. Ever.”

And that was the end of that. Mommy kissed Emma’s forehead again with her soft, loving lips.

Emma sniffled again, sobbed her last sob, and wiped her eyes. “‘M sorry...” she sniffled, and patted Mommy’s shoulder, the thin fabric of her nightshirt now hot and wet. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Ssshhh...” Mommy whispered. She reached behind her and grabbed a few tissues from the tissue box on her nightstand. Then she made Emma sit up, held the tissues to her and wiped her eyes, and helped her wipe her nose after Emma blew it a few times. Then, throwing those away, Mommy went to her bathroom and came back with a small cup of water that tasted like melted ice cubes.

When Emma was calm again, Mommy kissed her and squeezed her shoulders and petted her hair and made sure Emma’s blankie was close by before snuggling and holding her. “Mommy’s here, my sweet Emma. Mommy will love you twice as much, for Elsa’s sake. And once she comes around, I will still love you, no less, for now and forever.

“My little one, you are precious, and worth everything in the world, and in time I know you both will see it just as clearly as I have all these years. You are so special, so lovely, so wonderful a person, I feel extremely lucky to have you as my baby, my little darling, for so long. My love for every single part of you knows no bounds, and I know for a fact that has always been the case, even before you came to me. Before you were even born I have loved you, and that love can, and will, only grow.

“Rest easy, dear. Sleep now. Let my voice carry you through this night and lead you to wondrous dreams. Nothing can hurt you, the storm outside will pass. I’m here, sweet Emma, and you are safe. Always will you be safe in my arms. I love you to the ends of the universe, of time and space, across all the realms. Sleep, sleep now, darling. Mommy’s not going anywhere.”

And much like that night twelve years ago, Emma let her Mommy lull and comfort her to sleep. She snuggled closer and let Mommy lie them back down, feeling herself gently falling asleep as they descended. The pillow was a footnote amidst Mommy’s pretty words.

Mommy always, always, _always_ knew what to say to help Emma feel better. She wasn’t her Mommy just because they looked alike—Mommy was her Mommy because she loved Emma, big and little, and Emma loved her in return completely. Mommy was good and kind and sweet and soft—all things Emma’s wanted in a mommy since she could remember. Mommy loved very much and very deeply, and she never forgot to show it. Mommy never raised her voice or hit or made Emma feel bad even for accidents (it didn’t take much for little Emma to feel bad about anything, really, and big Emma wasn’t that much better).

Mommy was safe. She was home. She was all Emma’s, and that was how it was meant to be.

In a small way, Emma was glad Elsa wasn’t her big sister because that meant she didn’t have to share. Big Emma didn’t mind sharing Ingrid, but little Emma was selfisher and wanted all Mommy’s ‘tention for herself. When Emma told Mommy this after Elsa went to walk, Mommy laughed—a good laugh, Mommy’s laugh was never ever mean—before taking her upstairs and rocking her to sleep in her arms.

“I love you, Mommy...” Emma mumbled, clutching to the last threads of wakefulness.

“I love you too, sweet girl,” Mommy answered.

Emma smiled as she felt Mommy plant one last kiss on the crown of her head for good measure.

“Sweet dreams, little one.”

* * *

The next morning, Emma got up early again, not so much as the day before, but enough for her. She waited until Ingrid went to shower before going to find Elsa. It was just after eight, she should’ve been home by then.

And indeed she was. Emma found her in the living room, on the couch, absently flipping through the news.

“Hey, Els.”

Elsa started slightly as she looked up, smiling warily when she saw her. “Good morning, Emma. You’re up early again.”

Emma chuckled. “Yeah, well, it’s important. My reason for being up, I mean... But then I’m going right back to bed!” she added cheerfully. Relief washed over her when Elsa’s polite smile became a giggle. She had this. “Can I sit?”

Still smiling, Elsa nodded. “You may.”

May. Right.

She took a seat beside her and awkwardly drummed her fingers on her knees. This conversation was much easier in her head. In her head she was already in the thick of it rather than the beginning, which was the hardest part, so she didn’t even really plan how to start.

Well, there was one way.

Emma grabbed the remote and lowered the volume when they got to talking about the weather. She met Elsa’s confused eyes immediately after placing the remote back on the coffee table.

She swallowed. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t take into account how uncomfortable you’d be at the thought of... what I asked. And last night...” She could feel the blood rushing to her face in embarrassment and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ugh, I’m _really_ sorry about last night—that... that was just... I wasn’t thinking, and I’m sorry. But I know now not to do it again, and I won’t, I promise.”

Elsa blinked a few times, probably trying to take it all in. After a moment, she still didn’t open her mouth to respond, so Emma took another breath.

“I know you miss Anna very much, and I’m sorry I was so insensitive to that when I...” The tears were coming again. She could hear the thickness in her voice as she spoke on, and Elsa gasp a little. “When I asked you to consider...”

“Emma,” Elsa said quietly, calmly, placing gentle hands on her shoulders, “Breathe, Emma, breathe...” She took in three slow, deep breaths with her, one right after another, and waited another moment still before continuing, “I accept your apology. You don’t need to explain more, nor do you need to apologize further. I know you didn’t mean any harm—”

Emma vigorously shook her head in agreement. That was the last thing she ever intended. Her anxiety lessened when Elsa pulled her into a gentle hug and stroked her back. She hugged her back tightly, silent tears still somehow squeezing past her eyes and onto Elsa’s sweater.

“I love you, Elsa...” she whispered.

“I love you too, Emma.”

But somehow, despite those five words sounding so genuinely like Elsa, so calm and sweet, Emma just couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it.

* * *

Despite their somewhat successful talk, there was definitely a shift in Emma’s interactions with Elsa that she noticed right off the bat.

Firstly, regardless of which headspace for how long Emma was in that day, Elsa didn’t look at her as often anymore. She’d look down or focus on something else or sometimes just leave the room altogether. During dinner, when Emma was in her big headspace, Elsa kept her eyes on her plate and didn’t put much effort into conversation, or even asked to pass the pepper.

Secondly, during the times she had to leave her room to use the potty in littlespace, Emma would catch glimpses of Elsa in her own room with the door cracked. She often made it snow in there and ice followed her like a slug trail as she paced around and sat on her bed and held her head like she was in pain. It was scary and sad to Emma because those were Elsa’s “bad days”.

When Elsa had bad days, she promised Ingrid she would talk to either her or Emma instead of keeping it just to herself and freezing her room, but she started doing it again. Sometimes she’d cry because she missed Anna, but she wouldn’t tell anyone after all the snow and ice cleared away she’d been so upset. Emma couldn’t help but feel it was her fault for making Elsa feel like she couldn’t talk to anyone anymore.

Thirdly, just her general demeanor. She wore her headphones all the time now. She’d come in the back door than the front door so she could sneak upstairs when she got home from her walks. And she never came by Emma’s room to bid her goodnight anymore.

Elsa was avoiding her, and nothing Emma said or did could help because Elsa still didn’t like little Emma. She didn’t have to say it for it to be true. Her actions spoke for her.

Many nights Emma spent snuggled up in Mommy’s loving arms, kissed and hugged and safe. But just once she wished she could spend one night in Elsa’s embrace.

Even if she couldn’t call her Sissy, and she couldn’t be little around her, and she couldn’t help her through her bad days like she used to anymore, and of course, especially because she could never be Anna, no matter what, Emma still wanted Elsa to know she was loved and loved fiercely. The more she pulled away, the more the urge to grow closer grew.

And one day, Elsa’s cracked door become completely shut, and Emma ran straight into her Mommy’s arms and bawled for a good solid hour.


	3. Ingrid

Emma was precious. This was a fact. Even before she knew of Emma’s littlespace, Ingrid held to her belief. Emma Swan was always going to be precious to her. That was just how it was.

There were things about her charge Ingrid never thought she would know, wanted, or—frankly—deserved to know. After all the other children left, either into other homes or aged out of the system altogether, and it was just the two of them, things quickly settled into routine. Ingrid revelled in the notion she could now focus solely on Emma until Elsa’s inevitable arrival completed their little family unit. She bought her gifts, planned small trips, and cooked new foods to appeal to Emma’s ever-expanding palette—Emma could never refuse food.

For all her efforts, Emma sat her down one day and opened up to her about her social life, her dating life. She’d come a long way from the frightened foster child always worried their next talk would bring about news she’d be sent away again. At the tender age of nineteen she was seeing a girl named Lily, sometimes a boy named Neal, and they were all being young and experimenting and having fun. Legal fun, of course.

It took an uncomfortably long silence for Ingrid to realize that awkward yet still casual talk was Emma’s way of coming out to her. She stared unblinking for a solid minute, watching Emma fidget with the hem of her denim jacket before it hit her, and all she could let out was a soft, slightly surprised, “Ohhh...”

Emma kept her eyes low. “Yeah. I just figured, y’know, you deserve to know what I’m doing when I... after you... yeah...” she trailed off lamely.

Once she could move again, Ingrid slowly coaxed her darling into an embrace. Emma tensed.

“Thank you for feeling comfortable enough to tell me this, sweetheart,” Ingrid whispered into her hair. “I’m so proud of you, my brave girl.”

Soon as she said those words, Emma relaxed and rested her cheek on her shoulder.

“Thank you...” she whispered. In quieting her voice she was trying to hide the crack in it as she spoke, but they both knew Ingrid heard it. “Thank you for... for accepting me...”

“Oh, Emma, of course...!” Ingrid breathed, “Dear girl, of course! Always...”

And Ingrid held her precious girl as Emma wept happy tears upon her shoulder, letting those tears seep through the thin fabric of her shirt. Though they were warm, the salt in them threatened to—for lack of better word— _burn_ her skin. But it wasn’t painful—rather, it was a pleasant sensation, one Ingrid would gladly tolerate anytime Emma needed a literal shoulder to cry on.

Or any part of her, honestly. Whatever Emma desired, Ingrid would always try to provide.

* * *

Her first taste of Mommydom—pun quite deliberate—came a year later.

Lily and Neal remained very close with Emma and each other despite their breakup. Amicable exes, all of them. Often the pair would come to Ingrid with updates or concerns regarding Emma’s newest boyfriend who went by the name of Jones—and they were right to do so.

One day in June, the house became filled with the dreadful, incoherent screams and sobs of her sweet girl as her best friends practically carried her from Lily’s car to Ingrid’s surprised but always patient arms. It was inevitable, something they’d been meaning to to do for a while, they said. Even if they had to drag her kicking and screaming, they promised Ingrid, each other, and Emma they would get her away from that that admittedly pretty, but horrible man.

And they did.

Neal and Lily blocked the door, Lily hiding the knob from Emma’s view, as they watched Ingrid hold her sobbing swan and sit her down on the stairs. They murmured something to themselves while Ingrid got to work on soothing Emma. Never before had she seen her so upset in all her years.

“Whatever happened, sweetheart, it’s over now,” she said softly, stroking Emma’s hair, “You’re safe now, Emma, it’s okay, love.” She hugged her and held her and kissed the crown of her head. “You never have to see that hurtful man again, I promise...”

Emma’s tears threatened once again to burn her, this time with their intensity, but Ingrid took no notice of it. Emma needed her and that was all that mattered.

When she grew tired of crying, Emma raised her head from Ingrid’s shoulder to look at her friends, her cheeks quite flushed, a small trail of snot dripping down her nose Ingrid was quick to wipe away with her apron. Her chin wobbled as she tried to gather her thoughts to speak a coherent sentence.

“I n-need...” her voice was hoarse yet still thick with emotion, “He’ll be m-mad I’m not... I’m not there... please let me go back, I won’t stay long, I just need...!” She squeezed her eyes shut tight for a moment as she began to cry again, perhaps at the thought of going back. “I need to get my... my st-st-stuff...”

“We’ll get it for you,” Neal said as Lily opened her mouth to retort. “I think it’s safe to say Lily and I have a pretty good idea what’s yours, Emma. And with the two of us, we’ll be quick.”

“And hell, if it’s not yours, then it’s ours. Killer’s about to be hit by two smooth criminals!” Lily said with a wink. Thick as thieves, they were, always. And no mistaking it—they _were_ thieves, though thankfully never for the wrong reasons. Or the wrong people.

Lily stepped away from the door and knelt down in front of Emma, cupping her cheek into her hand and wiping at a few tears. Her voice was calmer now, slower and more gentle. “And you, little girl, desperately need a nap. Mommy’s gonna take care of you, okay? Papa’s gonna take care of you, Sissy’s going to take care of you, no one’s gonna hurt Emma anymore. _He_ most certainly isn’t. Do you believe me?”

Emma nodded, sobbing, sniffling. Lily smiled a little.

“Use your words, babe.”

“I believe. I...” Emma swallowed. “I believe you...”

“Atta girl.” And Lily kissed her cheek before standing and turning to Ingrid. “Make sure this one gets some rest. She hasn’t had a good sleep in ages.”

Ingrid nodded. “Absolutely.”

Even as they sat there, Emma’s shoulders still shaking with sobs, she rested her head on Ingrid’s shoulder and stuck the tip of her thumb in her mouth to help calm herself even more. Most of her crying was over now, and she stared before her with tired, bleary, red-rimmed eyes. To prove Lily’s point, she also leaned on Ingrid heavily, and didn’t even protest when Neal came to relieve Ingrid of her weight.

Neal, the muscle of the group, held Emma bridal style before carefully shifting her, wrapping her legs around his middle as she clumsily, sleepily, threw her arms about his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He began to carry her up the stairs, and no sooner did he get halfway up did Emma jolt awake, squirming in his arms as she filled the halls with echoes of her cries. But Neal kept on, soothing her all the while, promising she was okay, that he wouldn’t hurt her, that she was safe and sound in Ingrid’s home.

Downstairs, Lily pulled Ingrid into the kitchen.

“Okay, there’s no easy way to ask this so I’m just gonna do it,” she said in a low tone.

Ingrid nodded. “Ask me what, Lily?”

“Do you have _any_ idea what CG/L is?”

Furrowing her brow, Ingrid shook her head. "I hope it’s not a drug." Lily sighed. They each took a seat at the dining table.

“Okay, so basically it’s like...” she paused. “Wait, do you know what a kink is?”

At that Ingrid had to laugh.

“Yes,” she said, “I know what kinks are. Is this CG/L a kink I should be aware of?”

Lily didn’t smile back, but that wasn’t unusual. She could be quite grave and serious when she wanted to be. “I think you better.”

* * *

Emma slept for hours that day, still a fraction of the time she would have slept normally at night. After Neal and Lily left to get Emma’s things, Ingrid went to check on her, tiptoeing past the door left ajar to examine her baby closer.

Her baby. Emma asked for her. She wanted, needed her “Mommy”. Those were her exact words as she and Lily waited for Neal to arrive—

_“Sissy, I need my Mommy!”_

Ingrid didn’t know whether to be flattered or surprised Lily’s first thought went to her.

Being the youngest of the three, she understood Emma was “the baby” of the group, but to what extent they took it Ingrid never even thought about. Of course, this was back when they were experimenting, so they had plenty of time to settle into their roles, and indeed they had. When they’d first met a year ago, Neal and Lily promised to take care of Emma and that was exactly what they did and kept on doing, even when the unit they made together wasn’t what they preferred anymore.

And as Ingrid stared at the sight of Emma, now peacefully sleeping in her own bed with her baby blanket draped over her shoulders and her thumb in her mouth, she was glad Emma found such loving friends. She found a different kind of family, one that gave her happiness and clearly had her best interests in their hearts, and made sure she was safely back home where Ingrid could take over and nurture the little girl still yearning with all her heart to be loved as she should have been so long ago.

Thumb-sucking was a habit little Emma refused to break, Lily said, despite many bribes and rewards and positive punishments. She did like pacifiers, but she loved her thumb more, because it was right there whereas her paci could get lost. It was a conundrum they were in the midst of working out and almost hit a breakthrough... until Jones came along and stole away with Emma.

But maybe Ingrid could help with that now.

Using her magic, her cool, gentle snow magic, she made a little pacifier, the nipple about the size as Emma’s thumb. Carefully, somehow, she persuaded her sleeping baby to take the pacifier and wiped her thumb with a few tissues. Then, she kissed it, and watched with a smile as Emma sighed in contentment in her sleep.

Ingrid kissed Emma again, this time on her forehead, and caressed her tear-streaked face with cool hands. Emma moaned a little and giggled, even, leaning into her touch, all while still fast asleep. It was the cutest thing Ingrid ever saw.

How natural this was. The instinct to protect and to nurture Emma was always there, no doubt about that, but to know Emma wanted to be nurtured _this_ much... how did she not see it sooner? It made too much sense.

“I love you, Emma,” Ingrid whispered almost breathlessly, “I love you, baby, my sweet, sweet girl. And I promise I will do everything I can to protect you and make you happy.”

And maybe—just maybe—Emma heard her, for she moaned again and curled in on herself as Ingrid pulled away.

She could hear Lily and Neal pulling into the driveway again, after it'd only been about fifteen minutes.

They really _were_ quick.

* * *

Ingrid made sure to be there when Emma woke up later that day, dazedly and rhythmically sucking on her snow-made pacifier. It was late in the afternoon, about five, and the sun was still shining brightly in the sky.

When she saw her, the suckling stopped. Emma’s eyes widened, threatening again to fill with tears. Ingrid shushed her softly, caressing Emma’s warm cheek again.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart, it’s okay... Mommy’s here, you’re safe, Emma, ssshhh...” she cooed.

That seemed to calm Emma down a little. Slowly, she worked the pacifier out of her mouth and tried to sniffle. “M-Mommy?”

Ingrid nodded. “Yes, baby?”

She helped Emma sit up, and presented her with a sippy cup that had snowflakes decorating it, something she also made, as well as two handles for easy gripping. Emma eyed it, biting her lip.

“If you don’t want a sippy cup, I can make it into a bottle,” Ingrid said, and to demonstrate, she did exactly that, making sure not to spill any of the still somewhat hot but ever-cooling milk. Emma’s eyes widened in wonder, her jaw dropped in surprise, and she looked between Ingrid and her bottle back and forth repeatedly.

“Magic?!” she squeaked, her voice still hoarse. Ingrid nodded again, smiling.

“Magic,” she said confidently. “Magic Mommy can use to love you if you want me to, my Emma.”

Everything in Emma’s behavior told her she wanted this. Everything Lily and even Neal said told Ingrid Emma wanted this. But even though Emma scooted over so Ingrid could sit by her, and feed her warm milk from a bottle, and coo and chirp in a cute voice about much she loved her, without Emma big or little actually voicing her want in no uncertain terms, Ingrid wasn’t sure how far she could go.

Would Emma let her bathe her? Would she cry if Ingrid got up to take care of something quickly because she was afraid of being without someone nearby? Would she fight her on napping or eating her greens or rules? Lily said she would for all of those.

Ingrid was a patient woman, and she was also very perceptive. But she wasn’t always right. No matter what Emma subconsciously told her, or her friends directly told her, if Emma didn’t specifically ask for this treatment, no matter how much pleasure Ingrid got out of mothering and nurturing her, she would have to stop. Emma’s consent was everything.

Right now, this was a temporary solution. As Emma finished her bottle and buried her head in the crook of Ingrid’s neck for a cuddle, and Ingrid threw her arms about her little swan and kissed and kissed and kissed and held and snuggled her Emma all nice and warm and cozy, she hoped with all her might and main Emma would consent to everything she wanted to give her. Both big and little Emma. She wanted nothing more than to shower Emma with everything she had.

And when Elsa came, her love would multiply. Ten, twenty, a hundred-fold. Of that, she was sure.

* * *

Emma was most certainly a very clingy girl the first few weeks following her breakup with that Jones character. She often woke up in littlespace hungry, both for food and affection, which Ingrid eagerly gave her, and Emma ravenously ate up. Still, she was always looking for more of the latter, like she was worried there wasn’t enough, and made sure Ingrid was within eyesight at all times for emergency cuddles and kisses and sweet nothings whispered in her ear.

These episodes went on for hours, where Emma would sit nearby and observe what Ingrid was up to, whether it was making dinner or brushing her hair. When she was feeling brave, Emma would timidly ask to help, and her face would light up when Ingrid praised her for doing a good job (or, at least, her best). She would then pucker her cute little lips for a kiss, and Ingrid would oblige with a chaste peck to her cheek.

After a month, Emma still hadn’t asked, but then again she was slowly cleaning up the shards of her last relationship. She didn’t wake up in littlespace as often as before, and took the initiative to help around the house like she used to—grocery shopping, folding laundry, etc. But she still slept with her blankie in her arms, still timidly looked for permission before doing things, and on the nights she didn’t try to sneak her way into Ingrid’s bed past her bedtime, one of Ingrid’s pacifiers was always in her mouth.

And then, yet again a year later, finally, it came.

Emma sat her down for another one of her serious talks, this time on the couch. She looked nervous, but did her best to be brave, as brave as she was the day she came out. She took a deep breath.

“I don’t know how you find it in yourself to be so nice and patient with me, but I want you know I appreciate it very much.” She went to continue but paused to let the weight of her words linger. “I mean it. No guardian or adoptive parent I’ve ever had invested even half as much effort into a good relationship with me as you did—do. As you still do.”

Ingrid smiled, tucking a fallen strand of blonde hair behind Emma’s small ear. “Of course, sweetheart. Those people are fools, every single one of them. You are worth everything in the entire world to me, Emma, easily.”

A faint blush crept into Emma’s cheeks as she gave a shy grin. “Well, I don’t know about that...” She looked up then, her face solemn. “But I do know you make me feel... safe, and loved, and like a real person. You do all these things like... ask me what I want for dinner, and then you _cook_ it, and you make sure I have pads and tampons and... when it’s late, you check to see if I’m in bed and you kiss me on the forehead like a mom does to a kid she’s proud of and I—”

She was working herself up into a tizzy. Ingrid could see the tears in her eyes, hear the crack in her voice. She reached forward again to cup Emma’s cheek but Emma grabbed her wrist before she could.

“I love you, Ingrid, I lo...” Emma swallowed hard as the first tears made their way down her cheeks. “You know I’m little. I know Lily and Neal told you about it. That’s why you call yourself Mommy sometimes, and let me call you Mommy without even batting an eye. It’s why you upped the ante in making me feel safe and loved and special because you’re not worried I’ll be suspicious like I would’ve been when I was sixteen. You’re the same as you’ve always been with me—kind and caring and patient and loving—but _more_ and... and...!”

“Sshhh...” Ingrid whispered. She wiped away the tears that were slow to fall and pulled Emma into a hug. “Let’s try and calm down now, dear. Working yourself up won’t do anything but make you tired...” She began to rub Emma’s back as her little girl cried into her chest.

“You’re right,” she continued, “Lily and Neal know you well enough to know how to help after something so scary happened to you. And I’m glad they told me. If they hadn’t, I might’ve just made you more upset.” She lifted Emma’s head up, placing a kiss on her brow before looking into teary green eyes. “And you would feel like you needed to hide this special part of you away. Take it from me, my dear, hiding will only make it hurt, and you’ve been hurt more than enough. You know you can always come to me for anything, big or little, and I will always be here for you. No matter how scary, I promise, I am _always_ on your side.”

Emma sniffled. “I know you are...” She pulled back and wiped her eyes with the back of her arm. “You love me and you love me and you love me, even when I don’t think I deserve it, and you’ve done it for years and years without asking. Which is why...” she sniffled again. “I’m asking you now.”

Ingrid’s breath hitched. “Asking me what?”

“Will you please be my Mommy, Ingrid? Pretty please?”

She looked so imploring, so hopeful, Ingrid felt tears prick her own eyes. How long she waited for those words to be asked, said, demanded even. How long had Emma been working up the courage to ask her?

She could not even begin to express the overwhelming joy she felt at the thought of being wanted by Emma as her Mommy. To care for and nurture the precious little girl who was Emma Swan, to spend time seeing her smiling and happy and thriving without a care or worry in the world—oh, she would love nothing more.

The thought made Ingrid start to cry herself... and that worried Emma greatly.

“M—oh no, don’t be sad, please? Please don’t cry! I’m sorry! Please don’t cry... please...” begged her little girl as she rushed to wipe away Ingrid’s tears.

“Oh, Emma, darling...” sniffled Ingrid as she gathered her little one into her arms, “I’m not crying because I’m sad, silly girl, I’m crying because I am so tremendously _happy_. I love you so much, don’t you know that? You asking me to be your Mommy is... Don’t you ever apologize for it, okay?”

Emma nodded, offering a watery smile. “Okie...” She sniffled as well, nuzzling a hot cheek to Ingrid’s own. “Kiss make better?” And she puckered trembling pink lips.

Chuckling, Ingrid planted a chaste kiss upon those perfect lips of her sweet babygirl, guiding Emma’s cheek to her shoulder. She held her and began to rock, rock, slowly rock her darling in her lap. Back and forth, back and forth, one hand curled around her shoulder and pressing her close, the other under Emma’s knees. Emma clung to her, arms wrapped about her neck, tears staining Ingrid’s shirt and shoulder and offering their warmth.

And from that moment on, officially, Ingrid became Mommy. She fed her and changed her diaper and played peekaboo with her little baby for as long as it amused her. Emma fell in love with her all over again, and Ingrid with her the same.

She cooed and kissed and booped Emma’s nose to see her laugh and stopped furious kicking with gentle knee rubs and performed small magical feats that never failed to quiet Emma’s most persistent whines. Gentle hands held angry shaking fists and one cool caress turned an ornery, red, teary face into a calm, sorrowful, and also teary face.

There were days when Emma knew reason and bargained with her and kept out of trouble for the sake of being good and praised, and then there were days when all reason flew out the window and she was inconsolable and Ingrid was almost at her wits’ end. But never did a day go by, even when at her most trying, did Ingrid’s love for Emma waiver. No matter how many tantrums she threw or vegetables she refused to eat because she claimed she hated them or naughty words she yelled in her frustrations. There was a kind word for every occasion, spoken in Ingrid’s soft, soothing voice, that Emma needed to hear. It could be as short as a “no” or as long as “No matter what happens, I will never stop loving you, I promise, now put that down gently, or there will be consequences.”

In the end, when all was said and done, little Emma slept soundly in Ingrid’s arms, swaddled in the blanket of whichever room Emma decided she liked more that day. However old she was when little, it was undeniable she had her best sleep when she was sucking and biting on one of Ingrid’s pacifiers. She didn’t cry as often when she had one, though when Elsa first came, they all disappeared (so did the diapers, but the pull-ups remained). It hurt a little, but it was Emma’s want.

And what Emma wanted, Ingrid more than gladly gave.


	4. Family Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! :D So a few things!
> 
> Firstly, thank you all for reading and bookmarking and commenting and kudos-ing this fic! Sorry I haven't been responding to a lot of you, I'm trying to be better at that, but you know... holidays... relatives... life. Sorry I've just been popping in to post. I love you guys, ya know?
> 
> Secondly, we need more Mommy!Ingrid. And StarSwanFire because relationship goals. And Frozen Swan. Maybe even WoodenStarSwanFire because #squadgoals
> 
> Thirdly, happy holidays/Merry Christmas, everyone! Hope Santa brought you love and cheer! And here's hoping for a good New Year!

January came, and it was decided now was time to paint Emma’s nursery. New year, new color.

Elsa watched by the door as Emma sat on the floor in a pastel blue onesie, legs spread wide apart, babbling to her little stuffed animals: Bambi, and a little talking Tantor. She was making up some narrative about them going to the far corners of the jungle to find Bambi’s mommy because he was lost and scared, but Tantor the elephant could and would help him find his way back to the forest because elephants were kind and smart. It was kind of endearing, Elsa had to admit. Creative despite the geographical inaccuracy.

Sucking in a breath, she backed away and knocked on the door. The babbling stopped.

“Come in,” said a timid voice.

At least she wasn’t the only one nervous.

Emma’s eyes widened when she saw her, and she dropped her stuffed animals. “Hi, Elsa,” she said with a tentative smile, “What’s up?” She tilted her head when she noticed her holding something behind her. “Whatcha got behind your back?”

Elsa chuckled at the curiosity. “May I sit with you?” At Emma’s nod, she sat down across from her, gift still hidden behind her. Emma crisscrossed her legs.

“Wanna play?” she asked, picking up her animals again and showing them off, “Bambi’s lost in the jungle so now he and Tantor are gonna go to the waterhole to wait and see if his mommy comes back. But Tantor’s not actually gonna go in the water cuz he thinks it’s yucky.”

“He’s a smart little elephant,” Elsa smiled. Taking one hand off her gift, she placed it over Emma’s holding Bambi to get her to look up at her. When she had her attention, she sighed. “Emma, look... I know I haven’t been the most accepting of your... of your littleness...”

Emma cocked her head again.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t understand, and I honestly still don’t...” Elsa bit her lip, careful to keep her tone even and slow. “But if it makes you happy, and it’s not hurting anyone, I don’t have much to complain about, do I?” After a moment of careful thought, Emma shook her head. “You know I love you, and—”

“I love you too!” Emma piped up, probably glad the conversation was veering towards something she understood quite well. She bit her lip as well. “Sorry. And what?”

Despite herself, Elsa chuckled before swallowing. “Do you remember that night when there was that thunderstorm and you crawled into my bed because you were afraid? And you called me... Sissy?”

Emma nodded. Here goes nothing.

Elsa took another deep breath. “I felt really uncomfortable being called that. No one, not even Anna called me that. And while I’m... I suppose I’m flattered you think of me as your big sister while in littlespace, maybe we could come up with some other names for you to call me instead of that one... Okay?”

This way she wasn’t completely closing the door and Emma’s feelings hopefully weren’t too hurt. Compromise was always a good strategy. Even so, Elsa braced herself for an explosive reaction in case Emma’s mood wasn’t in agreement today.

To her relief, though, Emma merely furrowed her brow. “Like what?”

Relaxing, Elsa gave a small shrug. “I’m sure we’ll think of something. Speaking of names, though...” She reached behind her back where her gift was hidden and presented Emma with a little snowman plushie. “His is Jan, and he would like to be the very first to welcome you to your new nursery when it’s completed.”

Emma dropped her toys again.

* * *

Ingrid could hear Emma’s high-pitched screaming all the way from the garage. No doubt Elsa could as well. Placing the paint cans by the door, she hurried up the stairs to check on her little one, hoping she was all right.

But when she got near the room, she paused.

There was Elsa, clear as day, sitting on the carpeted floor with her baby girl. Not just sitting, _playing_. She guided a little stuffed snowman around between them while Emma had her Bambi deer and Tantor elephant, and together they wove an interesting narrative.

“Oh, my dears...” whispered Ingrid, smiling bright. She felt tears in her eyes as she breathed a sigh of relief.

Elsa was coming around. And it was absolutely beautiful.

“Mommy!” Emma squealed excitedly when she saw her by the door. She reached for her, arms outstretched, “Mommy, Mommy, lookit what Elsa made me! Look!”

And Elsa turned around, shyly presenting her snowman. “His name is Jan.”

Ingrid chuckled. “So I see! He’s lovely, Elsa. Emma, did we say thank you?”

Her baby nodded, and Ingrid caught a hint of an eye-roll. “Yeeees, Mommy. We diiiiiid,” she drawled.

* * *

Emma was almost too happy for words. Not only was Mommy helping her make her nursery beautiful, but Elsa was here too.

Ever since that night where she crawled into her bed scared, Emma’s done her best to be very good and not bother Elsa when she was little because Elsa didn’t like it. It was kinda hard at first because little Emma wanted to share her love with everyone, ‘specially Elsa, but Mommy made it easier by giving her lots of snuggles when she woke up from her naps and talking about how pretty her nursery was going to be once it was finished and making Emma’s favorite little foods for her to eat when she could. Those were the only times Emma was allowed to have food in her room that weren’t bottles or sippys, and Mommy made sure she ate every single bite before she could have dessert.

But now there was no more need to hide her littleness away. She would still be careful around Elsa just in case, at least for a while until she was absotively posilutely sure she was okay with it. But now she didn’t have to be afraid. Littlespace was a way for her to feel happy and safe, to take away her fears. Just like Lily and Neal made her feel, like Mommy’s always made her feel from the very beginning.

And now how Elsa made her feel.

When they all got a hot chocolate break and went downstairs, Emma wrapped her arms ‘round a surprised Elsa’s shoulders and nuzzled her cheek.

“Love you, Els,” she said.

Elsa smiled. “I love you too, Emma.”

It was hard sometimes to tell what Elsa was thinking, but not then. This time, Elsa sounded sincere, and Emma believed those words of hers completely.

She kissed Mommy when Mommy handed her her favorite mug, the one with Snow White painted on the side. Despite having a character on it, it always helped make the transition easier for Emma to shift back into her big headspace. Because it was a mug, not a sippy cup or bottle, it could spill easily so she had to be careful. She blew on the drink before taking a sip so she wouldn’t burn her tongue, and sighed happily after tasting the rich, comforting flavor.

“It’s gonna be a great year,” she said, smiling. “I can feel it.”

“I think you’re right, dear,” Ingrid said, nursing her own mug between them. She held hers towards the center. “Here’s to another year of happy memories...”

“And health,” Elsa added, adding in hers.

“And security,” Emma finished.

They clinked their cups and carried on with conversation.


End file.
